prosetry artwork and writing by Nicholas Michael Kinsella & Stephanie Lane Gage
drawing 1, nmk........................1 winter shorts, nmk....................2 ink 1, slg............................2 foul, slg.............................3 drawing 2, nmk........................4 love letter to an exotherm, nmk.......5 woodcut, slg..........................6 sun phantom, slg......................7 drawing 3, nmk........................8 isn’t, nmk............................9 ink 2, slg...........................10 texas, slg...........................10
1
winter shorts
I. there is something dead in you probably II. theloneliest monk III. i ate half of a bag of baby carrots last night
2
foul
I heard your skull rattle last night. I think there's something dead in there, rotting behind your eyeballs. The languid stench of it expands in your nose and mouth and exits as a string of consonants, vowels that combine to form those nocuous words which just go to show that the dead thing in your head has spread to the foul blood in your veins.
3
4
love letter to an exotherm
granted, it is the morning and coming in through the windows it is only dark
still I am thinking about how much I would love to be next t cold, next to you in the cold
5
to you in the cold
6
sun phantom
I think I recognized your face again for the first time in months reflected on the back of my retinas but the moment was vain and baleful, taking me up in the shock of it and stumbling feet stuck on the floor on its way out. I blink harder in the nighttime, shades up with lights from the steeple through dirty glass panes and I’m yelling aloud in my sleep without knowing because there’s no one to hear it but the air in the cracks of the walls. Every night in those sleepless dreams I fall from the sky over into antiquity and drown in the Icarian Sea.
7
8
isn’t
care f u l wits about you now too sweet. and dead or funny - or something like that and you can n-t or shouldn’t no difference nothing, but still something no difference difference making none one ton of nothing
crushing some person LW ZRXOG EH EHWWHU b but it couldn’t
9
texas
crawdad bones float in my father's soup bowl you told me to taste it but i'm busy trying to finish the race and looking for a clean jar to put my infamy in. scuttling across floorboards, somebody's limping and bubbling at the mouth. it was funny at the time but now I feel sad a little bit
10
stephanielanegage.tumblr.com sites.google.com/site/nicholaskinsellamiad